


These Hands

by Jedibrarian



Category: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Hands, Smut, speed drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jedibrarian/pseuds/Jedibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of speed-drabbly fun. Revan and Carth get distracted from some mechanical work in the Hawk's hangar. Smut ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Hands

“Looks like our transmission shift scheduling is still way out of whack. I need to grab Teethree and see if I can get him to recompute the algorithms now that we’ve swapped out some parts. No use in replacing your torque converters only to burn them out.”

The words washed past her without registering. However, watching Carth rotate his wrist and flex his fingers, working out a cramp from an hour of fine-tuning on the bike’s powertrain, was doing odd things to Meirah’s stomach. You’re a pig, she thought at herself. Ace pilot and gifted mechanic, taking time out of his busy schedule to teach you new skills at your request, and here you are letting your drool seep onto the engine block.

She leaned against the hangar wall and squinted at an indeterminate spot in the near distance. “Right…so how are we going to fix the problem of the energy loss in the lower gears? Swap the intake manifolds for variable-length ones, maybe?”

Glancing up at her with a quizzical tilt of his head, he deliberately repeated the motion. Her attention snapped back to the play of bones and ligaments under graphite-stained skin and to the hollow between the wristbone and the base of the thumb.

He rose from his bench, stretched, and ambled over to her. As if she hadn’t already felt pinned in place by the way he looked at her, he braced his hands on the wall to either side of her waist. “Sounds like I lost you on the build. Got something to say?”

She took a deep breath and focused on not stammering. “Nothing relevant, really.” Screwing up her courage, she laid her hands over his and slid her fingers under the open cuffs of his jacket. His breath hitched when her thumbs grazed the undersides of his wrists. She half-expected him to pull away.

He brushed stray hair off of her forehead and slowly trailed his fingertips down her cheek and jaw. “I’ll take irrelevant.” 

“Your hands are beautiful.” She threaded her fingers between his, turned his hand over, and kissed the palm, taking in the smell of iron, saline, and solvent. He gasped, fingertips trembling against her brow. Thus emboldened, she let her lips slide down to his wrist, teeth gently grazing the heel of his hand, tongue darting out to trace the raised cord of sinew. His pulse hammered against her open mouth.

He dropped his face to her neck, breath hot against her collarbone. His other hand closed around her hipbone, strong fingers triggering pressure points that set every nerve ending alight. She arched her back, rolling her hips against his.

He laid a trail of hungry kisses up to her jaw. “Now,” he breathed into her ear, “let me show you what else these hands are good for.”


End file.
